


Leaving

by KellynKupcake



Series: Reflections [2]
Category: Red Dead Redemption, Red Dead Redemption 2
Genre: Angst, Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Love, Cheating, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Prostitution, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-09-01 07:33:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16760755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KellynKupcake/pseuds/KellynKupcake
Summary: John realises after three years of pretending everything is fine that sometimes you can't overlook relationship issues for the sake of keeping up appearances.orAgain, John is a sweetheart that doesn't deserve the life he has.Part 2 of the Reflections Series that explores John's seemingly tense relationship with Abigail. These stories are intended to be read in order but can also be read as standalones.





	Leaving

**Author's Note:**

> **Spoilers** for endgame in the notes at the end of this work! 
> 
> Seriously! Do not read the end notes if you don't want the end of the game spoiled!!

Arthur sighed wearily as he flexed his neck, hearing the loud cracks of release as loosening tension left him feeling lighter. 

The trail was hot even though the day was cool. They had been riding for the better part of the day, the sun having hit the midday sky several hours earlier was now making its way down to the East. He dabbed at beaded sweat on his brow with a handkerchief and readjusted his hat as he turned to look at his companion.

“You aight?” He called out, gruff voice visibly startling the other man who had been watching the ground and letting his horse take its own path slowly behind Arthur’s.

“Yeah.” John replied, looking up and wiping the sweat from his own brow with the back of his hand irritably. “Stinkin’ hot is all.” He complained, catching Arthur smirk as he nodded in agreement.

“Not far now and we’ll have you home safely miss, don’t you worry.” Arthur quipped, a laugh rumbling broad shoulders as he practically heard John’s eyes roll.

Arthur smiled to himself. He wasn’t quite sure why he enjoyed rattling the boy almost 10 years his junior. But it had always been their dynamic. John Marston, dumb as soup. Arthur Morgan, smartass.

Although Arthur new deep down that John was a lot smarter than he let on. It seemed to be a running joke within the gang that Marston was an idiot. Since John didn’t seem to mind all that much. It was much more fun to play along than pretend it wasn’t happening for the sake of his friend.

The ‘John is a woman’ jokes however were purely Arthur’s. He had the utmost respect for the women in his life. Womankind in general really. But there truly was nothing more fun than watching John squirm at the implication he was a member of the weaker sex.

Arthur turned, another joke loaded and ready to fire. He stopped himself, tilting his head to the side in confusion as he realized John was not in tow. He had stopped his horse a few paces back and was bent down… picking flowers.

“Determined as always to prove my point Miss Marston.” Arthur laughed heartily as he turned his own horse and headed back towards the man.

“Oh shut up.” John shouted back, eyes glaring from under the brim of his hat as he knocked the dirt off the roots of the plants. “They’re for Abigail.” He said indignantly, not appreciating the crude humour. “She likes these.” He explained, gesturing with the makeshift bouquet before taking his horses reigns and pulling himself back in to the saddle.

“That’s kind of ya.” Arthur said softly after a short silence. His voice was genuine as he looked over the young man in front of him. He was an idiot. But he had a beautiful soul. He loved his woman with all his heart and wasn’t afraid to show it for looking silly. Arthur wondered absently if perhaps his own past relationships would have held up better had he openly shown half the compassion and dedication John showed towards Abigail.

“She’s a lucky woman.” Arthur whispered, surprising them both with his words. John nodded in reply, unsure how to respond. Arthur cleared his throat, clearly feeling awkward about his rare compliment. “Well let’s get goin’.” He said quickly, directing his horse back to the trail. “Don’t wanna waste any more time. I reckon we’ll be home before sundown.” He said loudly, flicking the reigns and encouraging his horse to move on. John followed suit, his gaze stuck firmly to the back of the other man’s head as he tried to understand their interaction.

~

“Hey Jacky.” John smiled, warmth spreading through him as the toddler came bounding up to him upon his return, hands out stretched in search of a hug. John bent down to lift the boy up, resting him on his hip as he made his way back in to camp.

He was the first to admit he had never been the most attentive Father. But he truly loved Jack with all of his heart. His own Father had not exactly been a role model. Not one he wanted to emulate anyway. His first experience with Fatherly love had come from Dutch and Hosea. They had taken him in after he’d escaped the orphanage and they had found him on the streets, weak from malnutrition at the tender age of 12.

He wanted to be a better Father. To make the effort he knew he should be but he honestly just wasn’t sure how. It didn’t help that he was constantly forced away from the boy. Sometimes spending weeks at a time out running jobs to keep him and Abigail clothed and fed.

He felt as though he was doing his best. But more often than not he was reminded by a swift kick in the guts that his best wasn’t good enough. Most recently when he had seen Jack refer to his Uncle Arthur as Papa. It had stabbed at his heart painfully, but he had let it go, knowing deep down the kid was only two. He was lucky to be talking at all in the environment he was raised in.

“Flower!” Jack exclaimed excitedly, pudgy hands suddenly reaching towards the yarrows John had tucked in to his belt.

“Heh, yeah. Flowers.” John chuckled, looking between the boy and the bouquet before plucking one from the bunch and handing it to him. Little eyes lit up as he raised it towards his face and sniffed eagerly. 

John sometimes wondered about a boy that enjoyed flowers. But he supposed he was only a child. He had plenty of time to develop an interest in guns and fire.

He smiled fondly, remembering a simpler time in his own childhood. When living the life they do would get the best of him and Hosea would take him out for a while, to get away from everything and calm his nerves. The older man had taught him how to make flower crowns which he had then given to Bessie as a gift. It had made her smile something fierce. Perhaps he should teach Jack how to make them to surprise Abigail. He never would grow tired of seeing her beautiful smile.

Setting Jack down next to the fire he greeted the people welcoming him back and batted away queries about the job he had returned from being strenuous. It had indeed been a tiring week for him. He had been concerned about the long ride home, wondering quietly if he would make it the entire way without falling asleep in the saddle. A fact he had kept from Arthur to avoid the imminent teasing that would ensue.

Looking around him he wondered where Abigail had gotten to. She was usually first to greet him, with Jack second in tow. But he had been home a while now and hadn’t seen hide nor hair of her. He asked around, shrugs and head shakes seeming to be the only answers he received as he made his way to the edge of camp. 

He had missed her terribly. The cold nights out on the trail had started to get the best of him by the end. He found himself dreaming more often than not of being back at camp with her. Her small frame pressed up against him, back to chest as he buried his face in her neck and breathed her naturally floral scent.

John reached the perimeter of camp, folding his arms as he looked around. He huffed audibly, his breath visible. Abigail didn’t usually like to leave Jack alone for long periods of time. Unless she was bathing and even then she usually enlisted the help of one of the other women to take care of him. 

He found himself starting to worry, no one had seen where she had gone. Perhaps she had been taken.

He felt a tap on his shoulder, face flushing as he jumped slightly, startled by the presence he hadn’t sensed coming. 

“Mary-Beth…” He said softly, her familiar face calming his startled nerves. 

“Are you lookin’ for Abigail?” She asked quietly, eyes darting towards the bouquet he held loosely in one hand and back to his eyes before John was sure he had actually seen it. He never was much good at reading other people’s moods. 

“I am.” He nodded, a frown gracing his features as he registered the worry in her eyes. 

“Mmm.” She hummed in reply, looking away from him for a moment before exhaling sharply and placing her hands on her hips. “Well, she went that way.” She said after a moment’s contemplation. John looked towards the direction she was pointing, his frown deepening at he turned back to her with a questioning gaze.

“Uh, thank you,” He said slowly unsure what exactly this interaction was. Mary-Beth nodded, seemingly satisfied with his response as she turned on her heel. He shifted uncomfortably, watching as she walked away and wondering what exactly he had done to upset her. 

When she was out of sight he shook his head, looking down at his flowers and then towards the direction she had shown him. He decided to push on. Abigail had been gone for longer than he liked by this point. He felt obligated to make sure she was alright. 

He walked for a long while in the direction she had pointed, wondering absently if she had been wrong or if perhaps Abigail had simply moved on without her knowledge.

He slowed his pace, preparing to turn back as he knew he was coming up on a dead end cliff face.

He stopped suddenly, listening intently as he was sure he had heard something. Staying silent he waited, not stupid enough to call out on the chance it was not Abigail that he had heard. There were all sorts of predators in these mountains. The worst of all being other humans.

He heard it again, head snapping to the right as he registered the sounds of a woman in pain. He darted towards it, heart racing as again he struggled with the idea of staying silent. If Abigail was hurt the last thing he needed was for what or whomever had injured her to overhear his shouting and come back to the scene of the crime.

He pushed passed a large shrub as quietly as possible, relieved to see Abigail’s small frame come in to view. He stopped dead, heart pounding and eyes blinking furiously as he shook his head in disbelief. He let his mouth fall open as he held his breath involuntarily. Feeling for a second as though his heart had stopped.

“What?” He whispered to himself in confusion. Hand holding the flowers tightening painfully as his heart followed suit. 

Abigail was not alone. A large man he recognized as one of the newer gang members accompanied her, his hand squeezing her naked ass hard enough to bruise, other hand pulling tightly on her braid as she winced in pain. She hummed absently staring blankly in front of her as her hands curled in the dirty under her. Biting her lip an effort to ignore the gravel rash gracing her knees. Her skirt was pushed up over her back, exposing her naked buttocks to the world. 

John felt himself tremble slightly, at first with rage, assuming she was being taken against her will. He took a step forward, adrenaline fueling his movements as the flowers he was holding fell lightly to the ground. 

He stopped himself, Hands now clenched in to fists, shaking beyond his control as his wife moaned loudly, eyes rolling as her face stayed neutral.

The man grunted loudly, pulling back from her, taking a second to appreciate the cool air on his swollen cock before slamming it back roughly in to Abigail’s cunt, making her jolt.

“Ken.” She groaned wistfully as the man took both her hips in his hands. He pulled her back towards him, her knees scraping against the rocks painfully as he held her in place and thrust in to her roughly, his pace faltering as he edge closer to climax. 

John watched in horror, unable to make himself intervene as he took in the site of Abigail. His... Abigail... being impaled by another man like it was a simple camp chore. He stayed quiet, only a few meters away from them now, neither had noticed his presence. He trembled, eyes burning as he took a step back. Leaves and rocks crunching under his boots still not enough to rouse the attention of the couple in front of him. 

He backed away slowly, not wanting to interrupt. Although he was well aware he had every right, he felt powerless to stop it. Like it wasn’t his place. He never could quite understand the feeling, even years later.

“Fuck.” The larger man sad simply, stilling himself in Abigail for a moment, eyes closed before pulling out abruptly and slapping a hand to her ass hard. 

John watched, eyes watering as the other man’s seed began to drip from his wife’s pussy. He turned around, not able to take the sight any longer and walked back towards the shrubs he had pushed through. 

Abigail stood, ignoring the mess between her legs and straightening her skirt before holding her hand out in expectation. The man groaned as he buttoned his jeans. Grumbling as Abigail insisted, gesturing with her hand for him to pay her. He dipped his hand in his pocket, pulling out a few bills and stuffing them in to her expectant palm. She counted it, seeming satisfied before folding them and packing them in to her corset.

John sat down behind the large stump of a burned tree. His legs were weak and he knew there was no way he could make it back to camp before the others. They would spot him in the distance and know he had seen them. He clutched at his chest, breath coming in shaky waves as he struggled to control it. He hadn’t felt this kind of pain in a long time. He actually wasn’t sure if he had felt it ever when he really thought about it later. His heart was broken and he wasn’t sure how to deal with that fact.

He held his breath as he heard them walking past him, his sight blocked by the trees. Abigail was complaining about the money. Lamenting the fact that the small amount of cash she had just been given was not worth being caught. The man with her chuckled, a slapping sound echoing around them as John suspected he had clapped her on the ass once more. She yelped, scalding him for being so bold now that their session was over. 

The crunching of leaves under their feet came to a halt as Abigail stopped in her tracks. Her eyes on the ruined flowers she had trod on without releasing. The man stopped next to her, questioning her gaze and she looked up at him, confused.

“Weird.” She commented, bending down to pick one up. The man scoffed, shaking his head as he walked on without her. “What?” She asked huffily. “They’re my favourite.” She explained, pressing the flower to her face, taking a sniff before continuing on. John thanked every God he could think of that he remained hidden from her view. It wouldn’t do to be caught in this position by her. Even if she had no love for him in her heart. He would feel poorly for making her worry about him.

He let her footsteps fade away as she left without him following. Wet cheeks and a heavy heart forcing him to stay hidden until she was long gone.

~

Arthur thought it was strange seeing Abigail walk back in to camp holding a single flower sans the bunch. But he kept that to himself, it wasn’t his problem. He was enjoying some of Pearson’s stew and a well-deserved beer after a hard day on the trail. He greeted her fondly as she passed and she smiled warmly in response.

He slurped at his stew, relishing in the hearty taste as he watched her go. Curiosity peaked for him as he watched her interact with Jack. Brow furrowing as she leaned down, asking him where he had acquired the flower his Father had given him earlier.

Arthur squinted, jaw clicking as he started to piece together the fact that John had for some reason not given Abigail his bouquet.

He looked down at this food, his own reflection staring back at him as he tried to understand why that revelation felt so wrong to him. John was a kind man. A fool, but a kind one. Arthur may have enjoyed his fair share of teasing over the years but that didn’t mean it sat right with him to see John feel genuinely upset. Their ribbing was all in gest and John gave as good as he was given.

Standing slowly, ignoring his aching back as he dabbed at his mouth with his napkin. Throwing it down on the table in front of him he looked around, wondering where exactly Marston had run off to. 

Choosing the direction Abigail had hailed from he set off. Ashamed on the inside for actually being worried about the other man’s well-being. John could take care of himself. He was sure he had just read too much in to it all.

After a short walk he began to second guess himself. The camp noises fading in the distance making it easier for his worried thoughts to spring to the front of the mind. The ridiculousness of the situation weighing on him as he trudged forwards.

He eyed the scattered flowers with contempt as he passed them. They weren’t hard to miss. The gorgeous red a stark contrast to the withered brown of dry grass. 

Up further he caught site of John, back to the wind as he stared out over the small cliff he was perched on. Ass in the dirt and arms wrapped loosely around knees, hands clasped together at the front. He didn’t stir as Arthur approached, eyes glazed over as he stared out over the valley, not focused on anything particular.

“Marston.” Arthur drawled as he stopped a foot or so beside the other man. John ignored him, not in the mood more ribbing. He wasn’t sure he could take it at that moment.

“You ‘aight?” Arthur asked, brows raising at the silence. John continued to stare, not looking up as he gave a simple shake of the head. Just once, a small gesture the older man would have missed had he not been looking directly at him. Arthur hummed in acknowledgement, moving forwards a step and letting his body fall down next to the other man with a soft thud. He crossed his legs, groaning in protest at his own tired muscles. 

They sat in continued silence for a long while, both staring out over the valley. The wind tussling their hair as they mutually enjoyed each other’s company.

“Things not okay with Abigail?” Arthur asked finally, biting the bullet and pressing the situation. 

“Just leave it.” John growled, visibly rattled by the question.

“Just askin’ s’all.” Arthur responded. “Ain’t intendin’ to pry.”

John sighed, looking down at his clasped hands and shrugging as he shook his head once more.

“She ain’t like the flowers?” Arthur pressed. Not willing to admit he was curious as hell.

“Didn’t get to show em’ to her.” John answered, his gaze still downcast. “She weren’t in a position to receive them.” He explained, tone changing midway through his sentence. Anger bubbled inside him, now that he had, had a moment for the shock to wear off.

“Whatcha mean?” The older man asked, sensing the dangerous undercurrent in his brother’s voice. John could be a hot head sometimes. But it wasn’t like him to outwardly show aggression for no reason, especially where a woman was concerned.

“She was...” John stopped himself, swallowing audibly as he struggled with the words. “She was lyin’ with another man.” He ground out, teeth scraping together as he exhaled loudly. Arthur felt his mouth fall open, genuine surprise widening his eyes as he studied the expression on John’s face.

“Like... lyin’ as in...” He began his question, watching John’s eyes screw shut.

“Like she was whorin’!” John exclaimed, hands flying up in the air wildly and slapping back down hard against his legs. “She was... she was bein’ taken on her own accord and afterwards he paid her. I saw it!” He shouted, sadness and anger mixing together and bubbling in his chest, threatening to explode from him in a cold rage.

“Shit...” Arthur said simply, unsure what exactly if anything he could say to make the situation less uncomfortable.

“She don’t love me Arthur.” John said softly, catching the other man off guard. “She loves havin’ a husband but she don’t care if it’s me or nothing.” He lamented, throat growing slowly tighter with each sentence.

Arthur stayed silent, knowing now there truly was nothing he could say to make it okay. The best he could do was let the other man vent to a listening ear.

“I ain’t never told anyone this before.” John started, taking in a deep breath before continuing on, his face looking to the sky as he spoke. “But I… expressed my feelings for Abigail a few weeks before she realised she was with child.” He said, pausing to think of the words. “She rejected me.” He continued, slumped shoulders showing a man defeated. “But then she found out she were havin’ Jack... and suddenly she was returning my advances.” He paused again. “Sayin’ she loves me back.” He whispered. 

Arthur pursed his lips, waiting for the other man to organize his thoughts.

“She ain’t never loved me.” John continued. “She knew I’d be a good provider for her. I weren’t gonna turn her away because I’d already laid my heart out bare for her. She knew when Jack was born she wouldn’t be able to work no more. So she needed me. For survival.” He finished, eyes downcast once more as he shifted to sit cross legged. He inhaled long and slow, holding his breath for a beat before releasing it just as gradually.

“So you ain’t think she ever loved you?” Arthur asked quietly, finding it hard to process. “Even now?” He questioned.

“I ain’t sure.” John answered quickly, irritation on the edge of his tone. If he knew the answer to that question he wouldn’t be sitting in his position at that moment.

“So what now?” The older man asked, ignoring his friend’s irritation. He had always looked upon John and Abigail’s relationship with resentment. Bitterness that his own relationship had not worked out clouding his perception of them as a couple. He had always admired Abigail and found himself jealous of John for receiving her affections even if he knew that was shameful of him.

“I... I ain’t sure.” John repeated, palm coming up to rub at his eyes in frustration.

“You know you ain’t have to stay with her.” Arthur drawled loudly. John rolled his eyes. The other man had a very ‘matter-of-fact’ way of speaking that didn’t suit this particular occasion.

“Yeah.” John scoffed sarcastically. “That’d look real good of me wouldn’t it? Leavin’ the Mother of my child.” He complained.

“For bein’ unfaithful to ya.” Arthur clarified.

“It don’t matter!” John exclaimed. “No one’s gonna see it that way. Since they all felt it okay to keep the fact from me in the first place.” He whined.

Silence stretched between them as Arthur contemplated his words. He hadn’t been aware Abigail was being unfaithful while John was away. But to be fair, they often left on jobs together. It wasn’t common for John to be gone for a long time on his own.

“Did...” John started, trailing off as he decided the question wasn’t worth the hurt of the answer.

“I didn’t know.” Arthur clarified, sensing the unasked question. John nodded, letting go of the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “I woulda’ told ya.” The older man continued. “No one deserves to be hurtin’ over a woman that ain’t worth it.”

John felt his heart drop at the words. He was hurting bad already. But hearing Arthur confirm it wasn’t right somehow made the pain more intense.

Maybe it was the fact that the other man wasn’t always the most sincere. He’d spent more time in his life making fun of John than being friendly. If even Arthur was pitying him, he must be truly pathetic.

The silence stretched between them as both reflected on the words already spoken.

“These people ain’t my friends.” John murmured, gesturing wildly towards the general direction of the camp. “Friends don’t... don’t...” he struggled, the words not coming easily to him. He exhaled shakily, shoulders slumping as his hands returned to his lap. He felt the pain in his chest expanding, clenching his teeth and holding his breath as he willed his face to stay neutral.

He could feel Arthur staring at him. He was well aware his pride was hanging by a thread. The slip of a tear the only thing between what was left of his dignity and utter humiliation.

He jumped suddenly as a warm arm wrapped its self around his shoulders. Eyes wide as he turned to look at the other man. His own eyes averted as he tried for both of their sakes to act nonchalant and pretend the situation was normal. It wasn’t uncommon for the men in the camp to sling an arm over each other during drunken shenanigans. But to openly display affection during moments of weakness wasn’t something that usually transpired.

John turned back to the view before him. One of his hands darting up to quickly sweep away the wetness around his eyes. Arthur ignored it. Not wanting to further embarrass the other man. John hadn’t been sure he would be able to hold back his emotions already. But Arthur’s display of brotherly care tipped him over the edge.

He sniffed softly, his face turned outwards as far away from Arthur as possible as he composed himself.

“Thank you.” He said eventually, face still averted. He saw the other man nod out of the corner of his eye and knew he had been heard. Arthur kept his own face averted, facing the opposite direction, lips pursed as the silence between them stretched. 

As the sun slowly dipped behind the distant mountains John felt the warm embrace slip away, leaving cold air to nip against his skin in its place. Arthur sighed heavily, rocks crunching under him as he moved to stand. 

“Wish I could make it better for ya.” He said quietly. John nodded, head hanging low as he waited for Arthur to leave. Somehow feeling emptier than he had previously as he heard the rustling of foliage that signalled his friend had retreated. 

He swallowed the lump in his throat as he slowly rose his head to watch lingering sunlight bounce off the tree tops on the peak of the mountains and wondered absently how long it would be before he could find his own feet and return to camp.

~

“John!” Abigail exclaimed, relief clearly flooding her tone as she made her way towards him. It had been hours since Arthur had left him. The burning coals of a once rich fire, the only light illuminating a camp otherwise shrouded in darkness.

He couldn’t look at her. He refused be drawn in by the practiced gaze that mimicked actual loving eyes. The gorgeous smile that had spent so many years bringing a smile of his own to his otherwise sullen face.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, concern furrowing her brows as she reached him. Her hand darting out to caress his stubble and tuck loose strands of hair behind his ear. He moved his own hand to hers slowly, taking it out of instinct and stopping her from pulling away. It was a simple gesture, but one that he cherished above all others. It made him feel calm and safe.

His eyes flashed towards her for a second, tempted by her touch to ignore his pain and continue on as if he hadn’t seen a thing. The irony of his situation being he needed her now, more than ever. Needed her embrace, the press of her chest against his to help ease the pain in his heart and calm his anxiety.

“John?” She asked again, stepping forward. Her free hand snaking around his back as he allowed himself to be held by her, if only for a moment. He wanted nothing more than to forget. To move forward and allow her to comfort him over a job gone wrong rather than what was really troubling him.

He looked up suddenly, a snicker catching his attention as he realized almost painfully that they were not entirely alone. A few stragglers sat by the fire, looking in their direction with curious intent. John felt his throat tighten as he locked eyes with the man he now knew as Ken. His heart clenching as memories of early fluttered in front of him.

He pushed Abigail away suddenly, making her lurch and almost tumble. He turned from her as she questioned him loudly. His face reddening in the darkness as her outburst caused the camp to stir. He caught the glow of eyes peeking out of tent flaps and looking up from bedrolls. He knew that they knew. All of them. They had probably been waiting for this juicy pinnacle for weeks. Months? Possibly years... he realized with a huff. He had no idea how long this had been going on. But all of the eyes watching him now; they knew. They had all along and they had chosen to close their mouths and let him look the fool.

He turned back to Abigail, his mouth opening but no words coming through. She raised her eyebrows, hands firmly on her side as she cocked a hip and waited for him to explain his behaviour. He exhaled, walked past her towards their tent and praying if he stayed silent the eyes would lose interest.

The men beside the fire turned away as he approached, a small gesture of kindness in an otherwise unkind situation. He reached his destination, falling to his knees and gathering his bedroll and belongings. He hadn’t slept on a cot in a long time. He had given his up for her when she was pregnant. 

Abigail followed him, standing silently within his personal space but not questioning him as he piled his things on top of his blanket. He stood, arms full and eyes averted as he removed his things from their shared tent and headed towards a secluded corner of the camp. She stayed put, watching his form, barely visible in the darkness as he laid his bed out in the open. The few personal items he owned being piled next to it as he sat down cross legged and let his face fall in to his hands. 

The night was cold without shelter. But he knew deep down that regardless of shelter there would be many more cold nights ahead of him. He figured he may as well get used to it now.

~

Arthur rose later in the day than usual. The sun peeking through his tent flaps not enough to rouse him after the exhausting couple of days he had just endured. Not to mention the commotion the night before waking half he camp. He had been frustrated to be pulled from his dreams by Abigail’s shouts but calmed himself enough to stay silent when he realized what must have been happening. He supposed John confronted her, but he couldn’t be sure as he hadn’t stayed in the conscious world for long before sleep over took him once more.

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes with the palms of his hands, standing on weak legs sore from too much running the day before. He stifled a yawn as he exited his tent. Already preparing for the ribbing he was sure to receive for oversleeping like a lazy bastard.

He frowned as the weight of the silence hit him. The usual ambiance of camp noise surprisingly absent for this time of morning. He looked around him, a frown gracing gruff features as he spotted most of the gang standing around a specific area of the camp. He approached them slowly, tension apparent in their body language. Arms folded and hands on hips. He pushed his way to the front of the crowd, Mary-Beth stepping aside to let him through. 

“What’s goin’ on?” He asked, eyes falling on a distressed looking Abigail, her head resting against the breast of Mrs Grimshaw. A confused looking Jack standing next to them both and tugging on her dress, vying for her attention.

“It’s John.” Mary-Beth whispered to him, a hum of agreement murmuring about the crowd. “He’s gone.” She said sadly, making Arthur scowl.

“Gone?” He asked, looking around at all the eyes that were suddenly following him. “Whatcha’ mean gone?” She growled, eyes settling on the young family in front of him.

“He left in the night.” Abigail cried, pulling herself away from the woman next to her. “He’s not comin’ back.” She exclaimed, hand clutching a crumpled note to her chest before shakily reaching out to hand it to him.

Arthur took it, straightening it out and eyeing the unmistakable sloppy hand writing that John had always tried so hard to perfect. The crooked lines on which he used to keep his writing straight seemed more slanted than usual. It was as if Arthur could see the sadness in the way the words were written. 

The note explained meekly that he had to leave. The pain of knowing that someone he held dear would gladly betray him for money was too much for him. The fact that everyone knew what was going on and didn’t have the guts or was it the heart, to tell him. He thanked his makeshift family for everything, but he needed to move on and planned never to return.

When Arthur would look back on that day in years to come he supposed John meant it at the time. He truly did intend to stay away for good and perhaps he should have stuck to that resolve.

**Author's Note:**

> **SPOILERS!**
> 
> I came up with this idea after seeing an interaction between Abigail, Uncle and John after the Epilogue.  
> We all know John basically worships Abigail by the Epilogue and especially if you continue to play as him after and interact with her a lot it's clear how much he loves her.  
> So basically there is dialogue (linked below) Abigail mentions that it was "nearly 10 years ago" that a man tried to slip out on her without paying. But at this point Jack is 12-13. So even though it's probably more likely that Abigail went back to whoring after John ran away... I headcanon that he ran away _because_ she went back to whoring behind is back. This would explain his foul mood towards his relationship in early game when he seemingly has returned to the gang not long before. 
> 
> Video link: https://redeadepression.tumblr.com/post/180308300423/spoilers-uncle-upsets-john-when-he-talks-about-the


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